Tangled Webs
by jelazakazone
Summary: What if Mordred had chosen to react to Morgana's outburst from 5.02 differently?


I have been listening to Alexander Vlahos act in the superb series about Dorian Gray and I think that voice influenced me here. **cecilegrey** said she wanted fic where Mordred healed Morgana and I was off and running with that puppy so fast, I think someone got whiplash. Thanks to **cecilegrey** for the beta:D

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When I entered the courtyard, I sensed Morgana's presence, but did not rush to find her. I had not told the slaver of my acquaintanceship with her. I had grown weary of openly giving out information about myself and found it convenient to let people assume what they might about me.

Morgana, in front of me, after all these years. Joy gladdened my heart, although I know it was not reflected so strongly on my face. Still, she had saved my life - her and Arthur, who were now at odds, apparently. Since leaving my people, I had not kept up with the news of Camelot. My soul felt split in two at the thought of two loving siblings so divided. Was magic really at the core of their feud? I hoped to find out.

I shuddered as Morgana's fingers lightly caressed my wind chapped face. Although my cheeks were rough and numb, her touch sent a shock through me. My eyes widened slightly in surprise. Her power had grown. Greatly. When her hand slid down my arm, fingers locking in mine, I did not resist. I went willingly.

I ate as I had not eaten for years, as though at a table with a feast for a king. "And why shouldn't two of the most powerful magicians in the land eat so?" I asked myself.

"I feared you were dead. .. It's dangerous for those of us with magic," Morgana said.

"It's not been easy." Memories rose, unbidden, as the words left my lips.

"For any of us."

So, Morgana had suffered too. I had heard stories, but did not want to believe them.

"Sorcery frightens people, even some of those who claim to support it."

"You see a lot."

"I've learnt to. I've had to. If I was not to be burnt at the stake or exploited for another man's gain."

I repressed an incipient shudder, pushing down memories of men who had stood before demanding unspeakable things.

"Attitudes will change soon. The old religion will reign once more. There will be nothing to fear once Arthur and his kind are cleansed from the earth. "

Arthur? Now she had my attention. Casually, I said, "You know, we had Arthur in our grasp. He escaped."

"And you let him go?"

"He got away."

"How? Who let him go?"

"It was an accident."

As the last syllable was uttered, Morgana exploded.

"Kill him! That's all they have to do. I am a high priestess..."

"Morgana," I tried to pacify her, but she ran right through my words.

"I have the power of the heavens in my hand and yet he continues to defy me."

"Calm yourself." I was growing desperate, wondering what madness had taken over her.

"I want to put his head on a spike and watch as the crows feast on his eyes."

The bells clanged and she said, "Arthur," with a predatory gleam in her eyes.

My heart beat fast. I knew we were at a crossroads and if I didn't act quickly, all would be lost. My whole life would be for nothing. I had waited years to be reunited with Morgana, the woman who had saved me as a child, along with Arthur. I was not going to give up that dream now.

"Swefe nu!" I called out, putting Morgana instantly to sleep, buying myself some time. Clearly reason would not work. I would have to heal her without her consent, a tricky business.

I laid her out on the floor near the fire and sat next to her, as I'd been trained to do by my people. I breathed in and out and in again and then out. I prayed to the Goddess, that she might guide me on this perilous journey, and then I dove in, no time to waste.

_"Morgana?"_

"Mordred? What is happening? I'm so confused."

Relieved, I sighed. I knew the healing would work, but I could see the network of lies she'd spent many years weaving and knew the work would be difficult.

_"You are sick. I am here to help."_

I felt her grow calm. I reached out to her with my heart, my love for her, and hoped that it would be the first bridge. I needed her trust.

_"Do you trust me?"_

"With my life."

Quickly, I got to work, unraveling the tangles of her mind, smoothing twists and turns that had grown out of half-truths she'd been telling herself for years and lies that others had fed her as well. I couldn't just leave all those loose ends hanging though, I had to reweave them into a landscape that would anchor her, else I would have to start over.

I worked as quickly as I was able and then slowly withdrew so as not to leave behind a single ripple that might disrupt the newly fashioned panorama. Fully disengaged, I looked at her. She was beautiful. No wrinkle marred her face; all traces of worry, fear, and paranoia were gone. I could only hope my work would hold when she awoke.


End file.
